June 30, 2008 | Filed under: Because They Pay Me, Thinky
I started my first job in DC six years ago, on the tenth of June. (I meant to write this to commemorate the actual anniversary, but like so many brilliant blog ideas I’ve had this year, time got away from me.) I had a good job, it was in the field I wanted, there was a lot to learn and my colleagues were willing to teach me. Work also provided a hefty part of my social life, for which I am still grateful. It was exactly what I wanted.
* * * * *
I’d had visions of my big city life since I was a kid. My job, oh, that was usually the focus of these daydreams. The frantic pace, the expense account lunches, the schmoozing at cocktail parties, the conversations about how we’d be a hell of a lot more successful if certain people were capable of removing their heads from their asses for just five minutes. (Yes, even my daydreams contain foul language.)
My last place of employment had none of that, which is probably a good thing.
* * * * *
I wear a suit every day, except for the days on which I don’t anticipate any outside meetings and then I wear an outfit over which I can toss the jacket that lives at the office specifically for that purpose. You know you’re dedicated to your job when you work six days in a row, one of which is a Sunday and another of which is a federal holiday, all of those days decked out in a suit and heels. It was three months before I wore jeans to work on a Friday, and only then could I get away with it because it was Good Friday and half the city wasn’t at work anyway. I blow dry my hair and do full makeup almost every day, again only slacking on the days I’m not in a suit. I shave far more than once a fortnight now, to accommodate all the pantyhose-wearing. The personal upkeep alone is a part-time job.
* * * * *
“How’s the job going?” a friend inquired.
“Have you ever been thrown into a murky pool filled with piranhas that immediately get to work eating you alive?” I replied. “It’s kind of like that.”
I had a rough couple of weeks there, time that conveniently coincided with my parents’ visit, which I’m sure just made me a barrel of monkeys to be around. I don’t know – maybe they liked being snapped at and told I don’t have time for things and work sucked, could we please not talk about it, what did you do today? Probably the icing on the cake was when I left them at the table to order my dinner for me while I went to the restroom and sobbed. If they noticed that I came back to the table without any mascara on, they didn’t mention it.
* * * * *
I knew this job would be a challenge. I picked it because there were new things to learn and good opportunities to develop skills in areas in which I know I’m weak.
I grossly under-estimated the extent of the challenge. Every day is a busy day. Few days go as planned, even when I don’t make a plan until 10 AM. I try in vain to enforce my rule of going home on time two nights a week. Officially we end at 5:30 but anything before 6:30 counts as “on time” in my book; 8:30 is not unheard of. And those weaknesses? Boy do they come to the fore in some pretty ugly ways. Well, awareness is the first step, right?
* * * * *
“Who are the piranhas?” my friend asked, “And why aren’t you biting back?”
I didn’t bite back, but I did manage to pull myself out of the water last week and score a couple of wins. That’s enough to keep me afloat for a while.
RSS Feed